Knives and Thread
by forever is never forever
Summary: A short story about the transformation from man to menace and the last person he would ever gave a damn about.


Thanks for stopping by! This is first Dark Knight story in a while, so I might be a wee bit rusty. Hopefully, not though. I can't say exactly how long this will be. But, I suspect under ten chapters.

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A fine, autumn rain fell on the dilapidated streets of the Narrows. What had been a chilly, grey day turned into a dark and cold night. Wrapped in an old afghan, a young tailor sat in her dimly lit office. Twirling her hair, Johanna was winding down her night by reviewing her inventory invoices. Her day had been delightfully uneventful. She had been terribly behind on her orders made by people you did not want to anger. Most of them were Salvatore Maroni's men who recently rose in the ranks. While she loathed that Maroni kept the Narrows desperate and scared, his men kept her shop open. She often wondered why she couldn't afford a nicer place with all mobsters' suits she was producing. But, anywhere within the city limits was astronomical. The suburbs were somewhat reasonable, but the cost of a car and travel time wasn't worth it. So, Johanna was resigned to keep her apartment above the store.

The old grandfather clock tucked in the corner struck nine and Johanna realized that she never bolted the door. How could she be so irresponsible? It was a miracle she was alive! Leaving her office, Johanna was startled by a man standing at the counter. His face was partially obscured by a mess of wavy tendrils, but she could see the distinctive streaks of a scar. It curled violently upward. They were shiny, pink and recent.

"Sir?" Johanna called.

Turning slowly, he revealed that he was holding a small but deadly looking knife. Johanna's heart began to race as she backed away slowly. It wasn't the first time this had happened nor would it be last. However, Johanna was used to seeing a flashier weapon. Her eyes took him in wholly. His stance was slightly hunched, as if he was ready to pounce. He has donned an off-the-rack suit, which had the smudges of what appeared to be white paint around the collar. Tearing her gaze away from the knife, Johanna looked him square in the face and found that his scar continued into a terrible grin. His eyes were dark and full of malice, which scared her the most.

"I'll open the register and you take what you want," Johanna splayed her hands out in the sign of surrender.

The would-be thief let out a downright giddy laugh, "I don't care for your money."

His statement shocked her more than his intrusion. All anyone wants in the Narrows is money, "Okay…then what do you want?"

"I, uh, need a suit," he answered.

Johanna was dumbfounded, "What?"

"I need-ah a suit. Are you deaf, dollface?" his brow quirked.

Johanna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had heard that pet name and more from Maroni's men, "Well, mister, I can make you a suit but it won't be ready for well over a two weeks."

"Hm, that so?" he sucked on his cheek.

"It is," she nodded.

He jumped over the counter causing Johanna to completely shrink back against the wall, "That's puts me in a little logistical problem."

"I can't…I can't make it any sooner. Even if I worked twenty-four hours straight it would never be completed," her voice quavered much to her dismay.

"How long?" he snapped.

"I don't know," she paused, frantically trying to calculate an estimate, "If I stopped everything else, three weeks. But, I can't put my current work on hold. Maroni's men will become suspicious and then furious when they realize I've put another order ahead of theirs. I don't need the mob pissed at me."

"And what makes you think I'm a better alternative?" his brow quirked.

Johanna shrugged, "I don't. I just know that I cannot make your suit any sooner than two weeks."

Letting out an aggravated sigh, he paced between the counter and wall, "If I gave you a month, what can you make me?"

"A suit," she replied, unblinkingly.

He smirked, "You're hilarious."

"Not trying to be," she answered, "I'm not following what you mean."

"Can you make this?" he reached into his coat pocket and tossed her several wadded up sheets of paper.

Carefully, Johanna unfolded the paper. They revealed an entire outfit design, including socks. She studied the sketches for a moment, "A month?"

"Yeah."

"This'll be costly," Johanna explained.

"If you're good at something never do it for cheap. And I hear you're good," he advised, "Here's half."

He pulled out a bound stack of bills and threw the bundle to her. Catching it, Johanna saw that the wrapper was marked as fifty thousand dollars.

"You're going to give me a hundred thousand dollars for a suit and jacket?" she asked in disbelief.

"Fifty for the clothes and fifty to keep you from saying anything to Maroni's men," he explained.

She nodded slowly, "Not a word."

"That's all it takes?" he remarked, unimpressed.

"It's money that the IRS or Maroni's men don't need to know about," she shrugged, "Let's get started."

She motioned towards the three panel mirror. He glanced back at her before stepping on to the wooden platform. Tying her hair back, Johanna pulled out her well used measuring tape. She stood behind his looming figure. Cautiously, her fingers wrapped around the lapels of his jacket. He allowed Johanna to pull the fabric away from his body. She hung it on a nearby coat tree.

Looking at him through the mirror, she caught his averted gaze, "Please stand up straight. You want this suit to fit, don't you?"

With a crack of the neck and spine, he uncurled his shoulders, "Better?"

"Yes," Johanna answered.

She opened her customer order book and flipped to a new page. Usually, she filled the first lines with personal information such as name and a contact number. Staring at the blank page, she didn't know what to write. It didn't seem to matter much, he was certainly unforgettable. As Johanna took his measurements, she recorded the numbers with her trusted fountain pen. It was a little idiosyncratic pleasure she had watching the ink bleed and set into the paper. He watched her with intense curiosity. His dark eyes following her every move, yet they never met hers. It unnerved Johanna. She felt like prey.

After the last of the numbers were written, Johanna handed his suit jacket to him, "If you'd like, you can look through some fabric swatches."

"Spread 'em," he smirked.

Trying not to groan, Johanna led him to a side room. Flicking the light switch, the long and narrow corridor was illuminated. There were bolts of fabric stacked on shelves, which lined the walls from baseboard to ceiling. Making a sweeping motion, Johanna stepped aside and allowed him to examine her stock.

His eyes darted from side to side as he strolled down the cramped space. However, he soon stopped in front of the section of grey fabrics. Pulling a particular fabric out, he unraveled a few inches of it. It was a soft, hexagon patterned cotton. He rubbed the fabric between his thumb and index finger. Holding up the bolt, he waved it slightly, "Shirt."

Johanna nodded and took the fabric from him. She made the necessary annotations on the order sheet. His selection process seemed to drag on. With extraordinary scrutiny, he studied each fabric that peaked his interest. None of his choices were what Johanna expected. She presumed he'd want something muted, similar to the suit he came in wearing. It was one of many, it gave him anonymity. However, his new suit's color scheme wasn't loud, but it was certainly going to be noticeable. The greys and blues were fine, Johanna had seen such combinations before. The soon-to-be green vest was odd, but not uncommon. It was the purple fabric that was to be his overcoat. It was striking as she laid the fabric on top of the others. This order began to excite her. It was new and chaotic among the drab Maroni standards. For a brief moment, she considered dedicating all of her time to this strange man's order.

With a voyeuristic grin, he approached her with one last choice, "You must be enjoy what you do."

"What makes you say that?" she glanced up at him.

"I've seen that look," he paused, "It's, ah, one of great passion. Excitement. The thrill of a new project."

"I suppose you're right. This is not a normal order for me," Joanna agreed, "The socks, suspenders, and gloves I will have to find elsewhere. They may take some time to find as your color schemes not the traditional blue or black. But, rest assured you'll have it in a month."

With an agitated groan, his friendly demeanor dropped as suddenly as it emerged, "Fine."

"How can I get in contact with you?" Johanna asked after a moment.

Looking around the counter, he picked up a pack of playing cards. He pulled a card out and scrawled a phone number on it.

"I'll be back to check in on you, dollface," he added after handing the card off to her.

He had written a number on a face card, the Jack, "Is this your name as well?"

Without a word, he left the store. Two steps behind, she followed him to the door. Looking up and down the street, Johanna found no one. He had vanished into the darkness just as he had appeared.

"Jack," she huffed, "More like joker."

Closing the door, she locked it. Johanna went to her two front windows and bolted the wrought iron gates. After turning off the lights, she ascended the stairs from her office. Falling to her knees, she felt around under her bed for her lock box. Her hand found the hard plastic and she pulled it on to the bed. Standing up, Johanna grabbed the key she kept taped under the sink. Unlocking the box, she tossed the bound bills in. For a moment, she considered putting it into the bank. It was a fleeting idea. The mob didn't need to profit from anymore of her money. Plus, a deposit that large would definitely raise multiple alarms. Securing the lock box, she pushed it back under the bed. With some effort, Johanna returned the key to its rightful place. She then promptly unzipped her jeans and collapsed on to her bed. Kicking off her pants, she climbed under the covers. The darkness of sleep took ahold of her without another thought.

With a deep breath and a soft moan, Johanna awoke the following morning. She squeezed her eyes tighter as she stretched against her mattress. Pulling the covers over her face, Johanna tried to will herself out of bed. She was unsuccessful.

"Fuck," she groaned.

It was Johanna's day off, but there was much work to be done. Just downstairs sat a pile of fabric waiting to be measured, cut, and stitched.

"A hundred thousand dollars. A hundred thousand untaxed dollars," Johanna whispered and was soon out of bed.

After getting some breakfast, she got to work on Jack's order. She had a sneaking suspicion that he would be back soon. Taking out her tailor's chalk, Johanna got to work. Occasionally, she would glance up at Jack's drawings.

Late afternoon rolled around and with a tired sigh, Johanna leaned back in her chair. Stretching, she was quite pleased with the progress she made. One of the two shirts she was constructing was nearly complete. Taking a little break, Johanna pulled on a sweater and headed out to a nearby mini-mart.

Johanna picked up a prepackaged sandwich and coffee. As she paid, she scanned the newspapers for the day's news. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Shootings. Drugs. Robberies. Assaults. Day in the life. Returning to her store, Johanna munched on her sandwich and checked her email. Her eyes scanned for the daily correspondence from her grandfather in the sea of advertisements and spam. Seeing his name, Johanna eagerly clicked the email.

Hi Jo,

Before I get to it, your Gram wanted me to tell you to expected a parcel soon. Can't tell you what it is cause I don't know. She's sly like that. Anyhow, I hope your day is going well. I know better then to ask how the shop is, but that's because your Gram is standing behind me.

…she just smacked my shoulder. Love that woman. We're thinking of coming for a visit in a couple weeks. Gram's gotta make sure to reschedule her gatherings and such. Let me know if this agrees with you.

Love,

Pop

Finishing her sandwich, Johanna crafted her response. She assured them that a visit would be lovely, but she would come to them. Her grandparents were not feeble; however, their perception of the city was skewed since they retired to peaceful, rural town. She wanted to spare her grandparents the lone drive to the city. Yet, the more selfish reason was that Johanna wanted a tiny respite from the city. Clicking send, Johanna closed her laptop.

Shutting her eyes, she could picture her grandparents' house. They rented a little craftsman styled home on a sleepy street. They had a few acres to themselves on which her grandfather took up a hobbyist level of farming. Her lungs craved for the air scented with wheat and wildflowers. The quiet nights at their house were her most favorite. Her grandmother would fill Johanna up with her cooking and hot tea. All of Johanna's worries about the shop and the city would melt away with as her grandfather weaved tales about her mother's childhood. With a the last of her longing thoughts of an over idealized country life, Johanna left her desk and resumed her work at the sewing machine. She aimed to finish the one dress shirt by the evening.

It wasn't until dark when Johanna checked the time. Realizing it was a little after seven, her stomach grumbled from emptiness. Buttoning the finished shirt on to a mannequin, Johanna went to lock the storefront door. She found Jack gripping the knob. They regarded each other for a moment. His eyes no longer bore the malice as they had the previous night. This night, they were kind and almost pleading. She pushed the door open to allow him in.

"Everything all right?" she asked.

"Yes…well, no," he answered, his voice preceptively deeper than the previous night.

"Would you like to sit?" Johanna could see he was clearly uneasy.

He shook his head, "No."

_What, do I have to play 20 Questions here? _"Okay, well, is there something to the order you want to add?"

"No," he harrumphed, "I wanted to apologize."

"Oh?" This took Johanna by surprise.

"Yesterday, it was," Jack sighed, "a bad day."

"Threats and bribery is a bad day?" her voice was laced with sarcasm.

A trace of a smirk appeared making his permanent grin even bigger, "They've been happening more frequently and more harshly than before. I…it's…that wasn't me."

"Then who was it?" Johanna asked although she rather not know.

"Someone else. Someone I rather not talk about," he sounded defeated.

"Someone who needs a suit."

"Yes," Jack nodded grimly.

Averting her eyes for a moment, Johanna broached a topic that was sensitive even among friends, "Have you sought help?"

"I tried. It took a while to find the right medication, but it worked after awhile. And then, it didn't. The bad days are the majority now," he whispered.

His hopelessness pulled at her and in a moment that surprised them both, Johanna took his hand into hers. He stared at their cupped hands. _She's expendable. No loose ends. _Mentally, Jack swatted away thoughts that were unfortunately his. Raising his eyes to hers, Jack could see the uncertainty.

"Have you started yet? The suit, I mean," he asked.

"Yes, the shirt. Do _you _want to see it? Or, would you rather wait for…uh," Johanna wasn't sure if she was still talking to the placid Jack.

"I rather not, but I better know it fits so _he _knows it fits," Jack was resigned.

Johanna nodded and led him to her work room. Letting go of his hand, she presented the mannequin to him. Jack approached the shirt and lightly stroked it, despising its presence. Unceremoniously, he shucked his jacket and tossed it on to a chair. His movements were reluctant as he unbuttoned his ill-fitting dress shirt. Johanna wanted to help him, but she was captivated by his physical form. It was incredibly inappropriate, she knew that. Strong shoulders. Expansive chest. Toned stomach. _What is wrong with you? The man is on the brink of some sort of mental breakdown, evident by this shirt, and you're ogling at him?! _She chastised herself. _Help him make this fitting as painless as possible._

Sliding the shirt off the mannequin, Johanna held it so Jack could slip into it. As he fastened the buttons, he felt _his_ approval. Jack had a comfortable range of movement without pulling at the seams.

"It's okay?" Johanna asked cautiously.

"Yes," he nodded and quickly began to take the shirt off.

"You don't want to see how it looks?" she asked out of habit.

"No."

She sucked in a quick breath realizing that Jack had no interest in its looks, "Right."

Jack peeled off the shirt and handed it off to Johanna. She returned it to its rightful place on the mannequin. Turning to him, she felt powerless to help him. If anything, she was complaisant in his mental deterioration, "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, you've done enough," he assured her weakly, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Looking me in the eyes," Jack murmured.

"Well, I ought to look the man who gave me a hundred thousand dollars in the eye," she replied, wryly.

"I'm not him. Not right now," he pulled on his jacket.

_You're really stepping in it today, aren't you? _Johanna was quiet for a moment, "Right. Sorry."

"Don't, it's…fine," he said with a shrug.

Johanna opened her mouth, but had nothing to say. She stood idly by as Jack pulled his shirt and jacket back on.

"Is there anything I can do?" Johanna asked suddenly.

He shook his head, "No. I should go."

"All right," she replied amicably.

They returned to front of the store. Johanna walked him to the door and they shared another look. She felt compelled to say something, anything to help. But, Johanna restrained herself. She didn't know him and to offer a kind word seemed empty. He took ahold of the doorknob and turned it.

"Wait," Johanna called.

Turning slightly, Jack gave her a puzzled glance. Johanna curled her fingers around his shoulder and stepped closer. With some trepidation, she leaned in and pressed her lips into a kiss on his cheek. Johanna suppressed a chuckle upon feeling Jack's face flush. Johanna stepped back, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. Jack cleared his throat as he fidgeted, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. She ducked her head trying to catch his gaze.

"Hey," she said softly, "I like it when you look me in the eyes too."

Jack raised his head, surprise written on his face, "That was…"

"Don't, it doesn't need to be talked about," Johanna assured him, "Thank you."

"For?"

"For coming here so I could meet you today."


End file.
